


Hold onto this lullaby (even when the music is gone)

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hydra Grant Ward, Love/Hate, Past Relationship(s), Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Grant!” Jemma yells, plastering a big, fat smile on her face, which is very uncomfortable because of how pissed she still is – and most likely always will be – at him, but probably comes off as believable because sheisglad that she just found a sure-fire way to scare the two thugs off.That is, if Grant decides to cooperate.





	Hold onto this lullaby (even when the music is gone)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: [56\. “I’m sorry, what? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/176166869449/how-about-56-for-biospecialist). Grant is Head of Hydra here.

She silently curses at her impractical shoes, trying to ignore the impending sense of doom at the thought that she’s all alone, with no way to contact her back-up, and the fighting skills of a thirteen years old scared little girl.

This was supposed to be a quiet mission, just observing, no action, she wasn’t supposed to be _made_ , which she has been, judging by the couple of _goons_ that have been side-eyeing her and following her less and less discretely since when she arrived.

She has the emergency exits memorized, just in case, so she’s trying to move closer to one of those in the least conspicuous way possible, trying not to look like she’s panicking all over the place.

The two men don’t seem to be buying her – probably terrible – performance, because they keep getting closer and clos—

“Grant!” Jemma yells, plastering a big, fat smile on her face, which is very uncomfortable because of how pissed she still is – and most likely always will be – at him, but probably comes off as believable because she _is_ glad that she just found a sure-fire way to scare the two thugs off.

That is, if Grant decides to cooperate.

He was busy talking with a middle-aged man who obviously likes to drink too many beers and must have enough money for the blonde super model right next to him to be content with following him around and giggling all night, and Jemma is pretty sure that she would appreciate the visual of Grant in a suit more – Hydra or no Hydra – if her life wasn’t hanging in balance right now.

She can practically feel the eyes of her two potential murderers burning the back of her skull.

Grant quickly excuses himself from the man and his plus one and, to Jemma’s relief, imitates her as she keeps walking towards him, the big fake smile still plastered on her face.

“Jemma!” he says, just as enthusiastically. He wastes a couple of seconds looking her up and down, and that kind of intense look really shouldn’t make her feel anything but disgust at this point, then he goes back to staring at her in the face, offering a pleasant smile. “I didn’t know you were on the guest list,” he adds.

“I had no idea I’d find you here either!” she replies, probably a bit too cheerfully. Her heart is still caught in her throat, and Grant of course looks so damn _amused_ by the situation, which only makes her want to punch him in the face. “It’s been so long!” she adds, afraid that if she lets the conversation drop he’ll get bored and decide not to play this little game.

She can see his eyes subtly scanning the space around them, probably looking for an explanation for her weird behaviour. She can tell the moment in which he catches sight of the men following her by the way his shoulders tense subtly and he immediately moves a step closer to her. She never really thought that him still having a seemingly soft spot for her would be something that she’d have – or want – to use someday.

“Well, we absolutely have to catch up,” he says, his tone calm and friendly, before taking her hand and laying a soft kiss on top of it. She shudders, but when he doesn’t let go and instead he gently pulls her away from their position in the middle of the hall, she doesn’t fight him on it.

Grant pretends to do some small talk during their short walk, but she catches him sending subtle signals to a couple of men that she recognizes as some of his specialists. Of course he wouldn’t be here alone.

They finally stop in a corner, right next to a column, which offers a good visual of the whole place and allows them to keep their backs on the wall. Jemma can’t help remembering how he’d always choose the table facing the door whenever they ate at a restaurant.

“So? Care to explain?” he prompts, his smile still perfectly friendly and his arm touching hers. From the outside, they probably do seem like two friends catching up.

“I’m undercover,” she explains, realizing too late that she should really keep up at least something close to a smile. “I think I’ve been made, so I needed to scare them off.” Grant has a pretty solid reputation, and she doubts that anyone would be eager to take out Mr Hydra’s friend.

He nods. “Good thinking,” he praises, without hiding an hint of smugness because of course he’d get off on this. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Not here. I’m alone.”

That gives him pause. “What,” he says, his tone dangerously flat.

Jemma doesn’t answer, bitterly thinking that she doesn’t have to justify her choices with him, _especially_ not now.

“What is Coulson _thinking_?” Grant hisses, dropping the friendly façade for a second. “You are not a specialist, you are not _trained_ for—”

“I survived undercover in Hydra, you know,” she interrupts, probably a bit defensively. She _can_ deal with undercover work, so long as it doesn’t involve any physical confrontations against two men three times her size. While in _heels_.

Grant just blinks at her. “Undercover _where_?” he asks, slowly. “How did I not know about this?”

“You were rotting in prison,” she says, a bit spitefully.

“Has Coulson lost his _mind_?” he insists, and Jemma ends up second-guessing her split-second decision to save her own skin. Getting killed by the two thugs might have been a sweeter fate.

It _bothers_ her that he’s talking as if he had a right to a say in her personal safety. Which is probably a bit hypocritical considering that she’s just exploited his lingering feelings for her, but still.

“What I do and where is none of your concern,” she points out. “So stop commenting on it.”

Grant studies her for a few seconds, his expression still murderous in that subtle way it gets when he’s trying to cover it up and planning on a revenge for later, then he seems to decide that it’d be best to drop it, because he offers a perfectly friendly smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. The news just— concerns me.”

Jemma decides not to call him out on the bullshit politeness, going for a graceful nod instead, as she subtly tries to look around for her two wanna-be murderers.

“They are still staring at us,” Grant supplies, catching up on her intentions irritatingly quickly. “We should try to look less conspicuous,” he adds, an edge of playfulness in his tone.

Jemma turns towards him, eyebrows raised and the suspicion that she’ll not like what he’s about to propose very much. “How?”

“There are people dancing over there,” he points out, gesturing briefly with his head.

Jemma blinks. “ _No_.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“ _Grant_ —”

“We used to dance together, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how to.”

“It’s not _that_.”

“Come _on_ , it’ll help us kill the time until those two decide that you are not worth the trouble. I’m doing you a favour here, don’t you want to reciprocate?” he adds, grinning.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “I think that you could spend your whole life doing me favours and we _still_ wouldn’t be square,” she points out.

“Pretty please?” he insists, bowing theatrically as he takes her hand and lays another kiss on top of it. Jemma tries to remember that she’s really, _really_ annoyed by the mere sight of him. Really, really, _really_ annoyed. Truly. Absolutely.

They still end up dancing. Because he’s right, it _will_ make them look less conspicuous.

Moving around the room together, holding onto each other in an uncomfortably intimate way is— actually anything but uncomfortable. It still comes natural, their muscles remember how to be in perfect sync. Jemma doesn’t even feel the need to stare at her own feet to make sure that she doesn’t step on his toes – not that he wouldn’t deserve it –, and he surely notices how easy it is for them both to fall into this familiar synchrony, because he’s grinning like a smug idiot. Jemma has seen too much of that expression for the day, thank you.

She decides to tear her eyes off his face by the end of the song, checking if the two men are still around. The appearance of a tight knot in her stomach when she realizes that they are, in fact, nowhere to be seen, is not something that she particularly wants to dwell on.

Still, she turns back to him. “Grant?” she whispers. “I think they are gone.”

He just keeps staring and dancing without answering, a slight smile on his face.

“Grant,” she insists.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what?” he finally replies, flashing a grin at her. “I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

She scoffs at the awful pick-up line, a bit fond, in spite of herself, and shakes her head. “We can stop now,” she points out, but she doesn’t move away from him.

He purses his lips, quickly glancing around. “Well, we could keep it up for another song. Just to be safe.”

“I’m working,” she comments, because the correct answer is _No, this was just a quick save and I’m leaving now_.

“So am I,” he shrugs, and his smile seems sincere.

Jemma takes another look around, and— really, the party isn’t going anywhere. She can still sniff around for a bit. She can still come back with valuable intel. It’s just another song, a couple of minutes to forget that they are on opposite sides of a war, that he’s a traitor and they have no right to be so comfortable and content holding each other. Just another dance, then they’ll go back to reality.

“Just one more,” she highlights. Neither of them has even attempted to stop dancing at any point. “To be safe.”

He smiles. “To be safe,” he echoes.


End file.
